Five Steps to Failure
by TheWestDriver
Summary: They tried so hard to succeed. Step 1: Ignore Her. Step 2: Deny Your Feelings. Step 3: Make an Excuse. Step 4: Blame Society. Step 5: Give Up. NasuadaArya femslash.
1. Step One: Ignore Her

A/N: This is more of an experiment in writing than fanfiction, but I couldn't resist using a femslash pairing from _Eragon_. I want Nasuada and Arya to go make lesbian babies.

Also, this entire story is more pre-femslash than anything else. It contains Eragon and eventually Eldest/Brisingr spoilers. Read and review.

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**Step One: Ignore Her**

_Do not cast another spell._

She swings her blade across an Urgal's throat.

_Do not look at her._

Another one, a Kull, replaces his fallen comrade.

_How did you even spot her? _

He roars, hefting a giant hammer over her head.

_You were looking again. Pay attention!_

Arya's eyes tear away from the city walls just quickly enough to parry his blow.

_Duck! Idiot. That will bruise. Stop looking at her and fight your own battles. _

Because she is logical, Arya feels a great deal of pain when she thinks of Nasuada.

_Now you've dented your armor, fool. Cast a spell if you must. A little one._

Arya hurdles the Kull and Saphira rips him to shreds behind her. An incantation for protection flies from her lips and places a shield around the young woman. No arrows will hit the little archer.

The elf wants to smile, but she doesn't and returns to Eragon's side instead. He is sweating and battle-worn, but still manages to watch her when her back is turned. She can feel it.

As she fights, she wonders if Nasuada can feel her looking up from beneath the wave of enemies. She is not entirely sure how she noticed the human in the first place.

_Among all the archers of the Varden and dwarves, your eyes were drawn to her, standing there in men's armor, no way to distinguish her from her fellows. _

She realizes that it was in the way she stood. Her head was tilted down to survey the battle, shoulders back, hands gripping the bow without fear. Her legs were planted strongly in the ground, as if calling out a challenge to her adversary. It was unique. And compelling. And wrong for Arya to think so.

_Clear your thoughts! You'll be gutted, stupid princess!_

Her mind-voice reprimands her and she spins, landing a solid kick on a nearby Urgal. She falls among a row of archers about to shoot down their human counterparts on the wall.

In a mad dash, she throws herself into them. She cuts bowstrings, throats, muscles, spines, anything her sword can touch. But she is not fast enough to kill the end of the row. One brief moment passes, and she is fully aware of their line of sight. They take aim, sending arrows whistling through the air.

"No!"

For once, her mind and her heart say the same thing.

Energy is sapped from her, not a terrible amount, and she searches the parapets with darting eyes. Nasuada is standing, still shooting, and completely unaware that an arrow is lodged in the wood over her head.

A warm elation spreads across Arya, leaving her slightly dazed. But this passes as she sees the Urgals fleeing her wrath. And then her hunt begins.

The first one she beheads, thinking that his arrow could have struck Nasuada's face. It would be marred forever.

She slices the arms off of the second one, imagining how unhappy Nasuada would be if she could never shoot a bow again. This fuels her rage even more.

The third one is short, and she drags her blade from his chest to his groin. She sees the color of Nasuada's skin when it is blood-stained, permanently scarring her beautiful features.

The final Urgal archer is much farther away at this point. She sees him scramble, hoping to blend in with the crowd. He is too far away to chase on foot and he keeps turning to be certain of this fact.

But Arya is logical. She pulls off her bow, nocks an arrow, and blasts it through his eye. He howls and shrieks and isn't quite dead until a horse tramples his body.

All the while, she envisions the girl archer.

_You are a fool_.

Nasuada turns, felling enemies with her arrows.

_She can keep her head._

She shouts a command, leaving the other archers to stare.

_She isn't distracted by you._

They have just realized that they fight next to Ajihad's daughter.

_You should ignore her._

A battle cry sounds and the archers move as a single unit. Nasuada commands them now.

_You mean nothing to her._

And for a split second, their eyes lock. They recognize each other and Nasuada gives her an almost-smile. Arya is now in pain. A searing, warm, lovely pain.

_Wonderful._

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	2. Step Two: Deny Your Feelings

A/N: This one is Nasuada's POV. It's also not written in exactly the same format, but I hope you don't mind. Review review review.

I forgot to mention in the last chapter that I don't own anything about _Eragon_. I'm still not giving up on Arya/Nasuada action though.

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**Step Two: Deny Your Feelings**

In her father's darkened room that is now hers, Nasuada is signing her name on several important decrees. The scrolls will be sent to Surda, explaining of Ajihad's untimely death and his daughter's new role as leader of the Varden. The girl sets down her quill and rubs her eyes with the heel of her palm (she feels so empty.)

The day has been long and very lonely. First her father's funeral, followed by her appointment to leadership, followed by a meeting with Hrothgar, followed by a meeting with the Council, followed by a session with runes that are now dancing before her eyes…

Creaking interrupts her thoughts. She looks up at the elf that has managed to enter her room unbidden (although she is not unwanted).

"I do not speak for Islanzadi, but I offer you my condolences and support in the coming trials, Nasuada. Your father was an asset to the Varden, and one of the few men I trusted. It was a terrible blow to lose him," she says lowly.

Arya stands very tall and very still. Only her green eyes follow the movement of Nasuada's deep breathing. (Her brilliant face is a mask, always a mask.)

The constant talk about her father makes the dark-skinned girl bristle with rage. Her heart cannot pinpoint exactly what is causing her pain, so it reacts with fury. She hates it. She is beginning to hate everything since her father died. (She doesn't hate Arya, even though she could. Because she is perfect and so much stronger than human.)

But Nasuada is a wise young woman and, although she doesn't understand why she wants to leave the room screaming, she contains her emotions and simply says nothing. It is rude, but she cannot trust herself to speak.

"I saw you fighting under Farthen Dur," the elf continues as if she did not notice. "That was bold of you."

Nasuada relaxes slightly. She reminds herself that she is a girl in a man's war. But what choice does she have? Her voice sounds softer than she intends, "I saw you as well." She rises from the heavy desk and walks nearer to her guest.

"How did you evade my guards?"

"Your guards are slow." The corner of Arya's mouth turns up momentarily, "I should guard you myself if I'm to be sure that you're safe."

The human stares back, unsure of what to say (what's new?). Her fingers fumble nervously over the front of her dress, latching her cloak over it. The pin is stuck inside the fabric, and she is beginning to fray the woven cloth trying to fix it. She feels a sudden urge to cry, hating herself for the lack of self-control she is about to display. (Oh, gods, please. Not in front of Arya.)

"My father- he liked those guards," she chokes. The clasp on her broach refuses to close and she keeps struggling. "He picked them himself. They loved him-" And then the tears come.

She bows her head, trying to stifle her sobs. The elf comes closer, a strange look (probably pity) on her face. She murmurs, "I meant to offense, Lady Nasuada." Arya steps even nearer, but does not extend her arms to the crying girl. "Forgive my words, they were unwise."

Wanting nothing more than to fall against the elf, Nasuada wipes away her tears. She wants to be held, she wants to weep into her shoulder and pretend that Arya can understand completely what she is going through. But the elf remains motionless and icy, except for the little look of sorrow in her eyes. So Nasuada stands straight, supporting herself as she always had (always would).

She would not break down, she would not cry anymore.

"There is no offense," Nasuada sniffles, still unable to steady her voice.

Arya stares for entirely too long (for a human, at least) into Nasuada's tear-stained face. She reaches out (they both tense) and latches the broken pin with ease. The metal straightens between her long fingers like it's made of nothing more than string.

She says nothing, but looks back with an apology written on her face, perhaps for not being able to express her condolences. Nasuada looks back (she's already forgiven her) and realizes how close they are. This is a foreign closeness, completely alien, and they pull apart to regain their sense of propriety. (Nasuada doesn't want it back.)

The elf nods as if she finally understands something. She asks, "Will you be able to sleep tonight?" Her face is sealed up again (no more pity or sadness or whatever that last look was) as she says it.

"I will try. Tomorrow will be a very busy day; there is much to be done."

Arya steps away, making to leave, and mumbles softly in the Ancient Language. She excuses herself without a backward glance, and Nasuada is unexpectedly overcome with the urge to close her eyes. The leader of the Varden does not know what she said (perhaps a blessing) but she doesn't stay awake much longer. She falls fully clothed into her bed.

When she wakes, she is well rested and not as weak as the day before. She understands that only magic could take her pain away. Nasuada wants to thank Arya for her spell, but she doesn't (she can't).

She can't because she dreams of haunting green eyes. They are not as harsh now, and suddenly more beautiful than she believes possible. They make her feel less empty.

And though she tries, Nasuada cannot shake the fact that she wants her.

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	3. Step Three: Make An Excuse

A/N: This chapter is a lot longer and has a halfway plot. It isn't very fluffy, but I liked writing scenes with super-happy-fun-time-Varden-drinking-parties. Let's pretend it takes place sometime after the Burning Plains, but before the Ra'zac hunt. I know it's OOC for pretty much everyone, but I couldn't resist. Please review.

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**Step Three: Make An Excuse**

Arya and Nasuada sat elbow to elbow on the same side of the table. All around them was the cheery sounds of joking and laughing, and occasional drinking songs thrown in for good measure. It was a night of friendship and relaxation for the sake of the soldiers and their families. The Varden rarely had moments like these, and they were more than welcome when they occurred.

It was a very crowded ordeal, so the people inside were forced to sit very close together. The elf and Varden leader were no exception.

They spoke very little at the beginning, except for mumbled apologies when feet or legs accidentally touched beneath them. Both stared straight forward, listening as Orik entertained Eragon and the others with tales of his bravado. He was bluffing, of course, but his stories could keep an audience pleased.

Arya was not listening. She watched, eyes open and seemingly enthralled by Orik, but she was not really paying him any attention. Instead, she had fully turned her concentration to the girl on her right.

Nasuada leaned forward, sipping her beer, chuckling at appropriate moments.

"You never rode a dragon, Orik. You don't even ride horses," she laughed.

Arya smiled at her remark, mostly because it pleased her to see Nasuada so happy. The young girl brushed away the dwarf's hand when he took a swipe at her.

"Young lady, you know nothing of my prowess!" He shook his finger, "And at any rate, I could drink you under the table." His face was bright red beneath his long beard.

She laughed again, and this time Arya joined her. The elf lightly cleared her throat, "Master Dwarf, if you haven't noticed, Lady Nasuada has matched you drink for drink this evening."

The darker girl glanced up with her eyes squinted. She asked, "Have I?" Arya nodded, taking a quick moment to admire her features. She thought that it might have been strange to keep tabs on Nasuada's drinking habits and silently scolded herself for speaking.

"But who can out drink a dwarf?" Eragon chimed in, "I'd wager my money on Orik. He's a rather stout warrior, no offense Nasuada." The conversation around the table grew quieter to hear his words. It became playfully tense among them.

"I bet a gold coin that Nasuada will win."

All eyes turned to Arya as she forced herself not to blush.

"I accept!" Orik yelled, lifting his mug.

Nasuada crookedly grinned at Arya before she said, "As do I."

Eragon smiled widely, pulling his dwarven friend closer to his face. They leaned together, conspiring a new plan. The boys did not count on being defeated by women.

Nasuada followed their lead, bowing across her neighbor.

"I- I really don't have anything to say," she whispered sheepishly.

Arya laughed, "It's fine. I doubt they're really plotting anything groundbreaking. This isn't putting you in an unacceptable situation, is it? I meant no harm by the wager."

Nasuada shook her head, "No, all's well. I'm just afraid to disappoint you. I'm a bit of a lightweight." Her eyes flickered to Arya, who found herself rather giddy.

The elf leaned closer, confident that no one would think anything of her gesture and said, "I'm very interested to see you less than sober. And Orik over there is quite drunk already. There is no doubt in my mind that you will win."

Her breath tickled Nasuada's ear. The sensation was new to her, but it felt a lot like flirting. Her heart rate rose.

"Is this a cheap ploy to see me inebriated, Arya of Ellesmera?"

Arya wet her lips, "It's just an excuse for you to let your hair down, so to speak."

From across the table, Orik slammed down his fists. The girls pulled apart from each other as if they had been caught committing a crime. The dwarf did not seem to notice. He and Eragon wore dual grins.

"Are you ready, little girl?"

Nasuada frowned, "To defeat you, little man? I was born ready."

More people had gathered around their table, most carrying mugs of their own. "Wait, we need an honest judge," said Eragon. "Saphira? Will you keep watch for any cheating? I know how underhanded those women can be." He tilted his head back, teasingly peering at Arya and Nasuada down his nose.

"And, Saphira," said Arya, "Will you watch those two girls for me? I find they get their skirts in a knot when they start losing." She and Nasuada smiled back at Eragon.

_I see,_ broadcasted the dragon to everyone. _I'll have to keep this fair. However, I must warn you that the loser shall be eaten._

Many passers-by froze in their tracks and gulped.

_Let the game begin! _She roared.

Without a moment of hesitation, Orik grabbed a mug and started guzzling. Nasuada tried to match his speed, but was taken by surprise. She was immediately falling behind.

"I bet another coin on Master Orik," said Jormunder, appearing behind the men.

Angela, who seemed to spontaneously materialize as well, said, "And I bet one for Nasuada!"

The dueling drinkers ignored their fan base to move on to another mug. Nasuada paused to breathe and say, "I didn't realize this was a race, Orik." She gulped down the beer.

The dwarf let Eragon do his talking, "A real competitor can drink more _and _more quickly. Are you up to the challenge?"

"She'll be more than happy to be the last woman standing," replied Arya.

The third and fourth mugs drew a large crowd. Cheering erupted whenever the drinkers paused for air.

"One more for Nasuada," said Trianna, throwing her coin on the table.

"And for Orik," shouted Orrin, mimicking her actions.

The boundaries were clearly drawn. The men pulled for Eragon and Orik, while the women supported Arya and Nasuada. It had become a regular battle of the sexes.

Orik burped and the crowd went wild. He reached for the last mug on the table, but Nasuada had quickly snatched it away in her attempt to catch up.

"More beer! I need more beer!" He bellowed. A tray appeared from behind him, holding eight more frothing mugs.

_The score is tied at five and five. Keep in mind, ladies and gentlemen, that they have both had three drinks before this, _announced Saphira, who was clearly enjoying herself as the Master of Ceremonies.

Nasuada felt her stomach roll a wave of nausea from one side to the other. She turned to Arya with a grimace. "You don't have to go as fast, you just have to drink more than him," the elf said in response to her unspoken question.

And with that, the young woman slowed to a more leisurely pace. Orik did not. He tossed back another mug, hardly able to stand up straight.

Eragon said, "Orik, maybe you should slow down." The dwarf was tottering.

"Oh no," Orrin mumbled.

Angela cackled, "Timber!"

The dwarf, who had managed to stand on the bench, fell face forward onto the table. He was completely gone. All the women cheered.

_The game is not over,_ said Saphira. _Nasuada must drink two more to win. _

Her head was fuzzy and her eyes couldn't follow a straight line, but she heard the dragon well enough. She grabbed for the first mug, and immediately began hiccoughing. She drank it all between spasms.

_The game is tied_, Saphira declared.

"One more! One more!" cried the audience. Even the men started cheering her on.

Drunkenly, the girl nodded, swaying in her spot. As soon as the beer touched her lips, she had to resist the urge to vomit.

_You had better finish that,_ threatened the dragon to Nasuada alone. _I'm a female too, and I want you to win._

Arya held the mug out to her partner, saying, "You can do it. Just hold your nose."

Swallowing and gasping, Nasuada drained the mug, and tossed her hands in the air.

Her knees buckled and Arya caught her on the way down. She wrapped her arm around Nasuada's waist and supported her as the crowd shook her hands, patted her on the back, and generally caused a ruckus.

"That was astounding!" said Angela.

"I don't envy you in the morning," said Orrin.

Trianna looked green in the face, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Jormunder saluted her in silence, grinning like a fool.

But Eragon, who had slung Orik over his back, bent down on one knee. He bowed his head in defeat, "Can you ever forgive me, my liege? It was wrong to doubt you, and I'm sure Orik sees that now as well." He forced his face into a look of deep regret.

Still putting most of her weight on Arya, she drew herself up to full height. "You are forgiven under one condition, Shadeslayer." Her words were thick and slurred, "You must tend to Master Orik tomorrow, and come running at his every…" she looked to Arya for the right phrase.

"Beck and call?" the elf suggested.

"Yes! At his every beck and call." She took a deep breath, "Aaaand, you will be called Slave Boy for the rest of the week." Nasuada giggled at her own command, "I'm just kidding. You can still be called Eragon." She snorted.

Arya and the Rider blinked at her for a moment before the elf said, "I think it's bedtime for the two of them."

Eragon agreed and they parted ways, both toting their friends.

She half-dragged Nasuada across the Varden camp to her tent. Her hiccoughs continued as she lay her head on her companion's shoulder. The girl was practically asleep on her feet when she said, "You said you wanted me to let my hair down."

Arya nodded, unsure of where the drunken woman was going with her statement.

Nasuada chortled, running her fingers across her black locks. "My hair is already down!" She leaned against her, still laughing. "It was just an excuse to see me drunk. I know it. You don't have to lie."

The older woman opened the flap of Nasuada's tent. She said, "You're right." Leading her to the bed, she asked, "Do you need anything else?" The girl curled up, still holding Arya's hand.

"A goodnight kiss?" Her eyes were closed, but she continued, "I won't let you leave until I get one." She tugged her arm closer. Arya said, "You're a spoiled little human." But she obliged, giving her a soft kiss on her cheek.

Eyes still closed, Nasuada murmured, "You should do that more often." Her lips parted very slightly as she drifted off to sleep.

The elf covered her up with a blanket and removed her shoes. She left the tent, wondering if Nasuada would remember her words in the morning.

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	4. Step Four: Blame Society

A/N: Let the angst resume! This is Arya's POV. It takes place after Saphira returns without Eragon in _Brisingr_ and Arya goes to find him. Review and tell me what you think.

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**Step Four: Blame Society **

She feels as if she has been born with her back against a wall. The royal line of Ellesméra depends on her. But she slips up. She chooses to be free and untouchable (this ultimately leads to her torture) and live as she sees fit.

So now she runs away (always running) from the Varden, searching for Eragon Shadeslayer among the vast countryside of Alagaësia. Arya hopes he is alive and well, not because she loves him, but because the Varden needs him. Nasuada needs him.

An echo of the girl's cry sounds in her mind, but she pushes it away. It is essential that she find the Rider. She must return him safely.

The young man, so handsome now that he looks elvish, stirs a fiery anger within her. He loves her, she can see this, and the feeling is not returned (will never be returned.) He is a good man, a brave human. He would devote his entire life to her. He would be faithful and kind. He would be a king. It would be a perfect match.

But she does not love him. Slowly, she is beginning to wrap her mind around the fact that she loves (is it love?) another leader of the Varden. A dark-skinned woman, still so young and so stubborn, unable to take care of herself because she is busy with everyone else.

Her pace quickens (and her flesh heats up) when she thinks of Nasuada. Arya runs faster, trying to find the boy (man?) and put her silly thoughts away. The world is not ready for such a love.

Yet she will not deny that she misses her. Even now, when they have only been apart for a day, Arya wants to keep the half-queen in her sights. (Half-queen she is.)

She sprints furiously and contemplates if her feelings are even mutual. She is (almost) certain. They must be. Arya is a good judge of character, of feelings. (She could read Fäolin like a book.)

Her memory blocks her train of thought. Fäolin was so much like Eragon, and something like Nasuada. He was perfect, but not for her. A deep connection, but it was not the same. He was respect and defiance (oh, how they loved to argue), but not passion. Not love.

What she feels right now is an ache in her chest that spreads like tendrils to the rest of her speeding body. It is not for her dead Fäolin, but for her Nasuada, who is far from her now, and who called her name with fear as Arya dashed away.

The lines of her form blur across the plains, and soon the elf wants to tear her heart out because it beats so fast and painfully.

Abruptly she stops, panting, and lays her palms and forehead against a tree. She knows that she cannot love her. She thinks again of Eragon, the Rider everyone expects to rule at her side. She thinks of Nasuada and King Orrin, who is absent-minded and caring.

Everything fits so well.

All of the puzzle pieces are accounted for, all but her. And so she stands somewhere in the country, digging her fingernails into tree bark because nothing will work out. Orrin will marry Nasuada and together they will unite Alagaësia and Surda and everyone will be prosperous and happy again and Arya will marry Eragon and hatch the third dragon egg and the forests will sing of the joyous new union of elves and humans.

She sees the puzzle completely (and hates every last part of it). She wants to weep or be held or be whispered to by the one person she can never have.

Fueled again by self-destruction, she takes off in the sunlight. (She must find him.) She knows that Nasuada cannot be happy- society's puzzle cannot be complete- without the Dragon Rider at her side. So she will fit them together to bring Nasuada peace.

(Her mind is not settled.) She repeats one phrase for the duration of her journey. It is her new mantra, the world's decree for her to follow, and she cannot deny it. She says it out loud once, disgusted by the words in her mouth.

"Ellesméra cannot have two queens."

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	5. Step Five: Give Up

A/N: Here's the last of the steps. I hope everyone has enjoyed the little bit of Nasuada/Arya loving I have to offer. Read and review.

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**Step Five: Give Up**

Once again, the day is dreadfully long. Eragon finally returns, covered in dirt and reluctant to discuss his time with Arya. He glances at her when he tells his story, looking for some sort of support, but she waits her turn to speak. Nasuada grinds her teeth, hoping that he lets something slip, even if it's something that she doesn't want to hear. Something about Arya.

_I hate him. I know what he was doing with her._

Nasuada shakes her head, feeling rather stupid about her inner voice. Her memories of their meeting make her angry. She is glad that he and Arya returned safely. After all, she is his friend before his liege-lord.

_Maybe nothing happened. Don't be so foolish. _

The idea of the elf and Rider stings her heart.

_I don't hate him. _

She slips into her white sleeping gown with a sigh. Jealousy is tugging at her thoughts, but she refuses to give into it completely. Nasuada looks down at her freshly washed arms.

Her body is at least clean now, but her cuts burn terribly from Angela's salve. She is having trouble rewrapping her injuries alone, sitting on the edge of her bed.

_Hold it tighter. Don't let go. Damn it. _

The white linen rolls across her rug, stopping against the tip of a brown leather boot.

Arya stands before her, the human glamour gone from her face, and asks, "May I help you?" She picks up the white cloth.

Overcome with a curious joy, Nasuada laughs out loud. She is happy because Arya is here with her lovely hair down, and it reminds her of their meeting many months ago in Tronjheim, when they were so sad, but together.

_She always arrives when I need her, and leaves when I want her to stay._

"Surely you didn't evade the Nighthawks. They are the finest soldiers I have, and I'm afraid I'll have to take you up on your previous offer to be my bodyguard if you bested them so easily," says Nasuada.

The elf smiles and the room lights up. "No," she concedes. "I had to convince Garzhvog that you would allow me entrance. He wanted a fight to the death, but I said it would displease you, so he let me through. I rather like that Kull." Her smile fades, "He would die to protect you."

The elf kneels in front of her, looking like a knight before a king, and gently takes her arms. As she inspects them she says, "I was upset to see you looking ill, Nasuada Nine-Cuts. It worried me a great deal."

"It was a duty I had to perform." Nasuada sharply replies, "Just as you had to run off to find Eragon."

_Don't drive her away!_

Revealing no emotion, Arya says, "I did not want to leave, but life would have been very difficult for you if he had not returned." She is still wrapping her left arm and does not look at her patient.

_Now you've upset her. Brilliant._

"Forgive me, please. I was worried for your welfare, Arya. My life would be very difficult if I lost you, too." The pale hands continue deftly spinning the bandage.

_Oh, please don't notice my pulse._

Arya is finished wrapping her wounds, but still holds the girl's hands. She says, "I'm sorry you had to do this. I would take the pain from you if you would let me."

Their eyes finally meet.

_She's so beautiful. _

"Thank you," says Nasuada lowly. "But I'm trying to be manly and tough. Although, you are _very_ tempting."

_That was a stupid choice of words. _

But the elf smiles again, spiking Nasuada's heartbeat, and laughs, "I can only wonder how much blood you lost trying to be such a man. Next time you decide to hack off your arm, give me some advanced warning."

The laughter subsides, and Arya stands up. She puts her hand lightly on Nasuada's shoulder and simply stares down at her. For a moment, the women are perfectly still.

_Don't!_

Nasuada flings herself forward, pressing her lips to Arya's, and evenly touches the sides of her face. They are locked together now; eyes closed, and blood scorching in their veins. It is a desperate kiss, as if they are both about to die from some terrible fiend.

They do not stop for words, or even for air, because if they stop the moment will be over. It could be a regret in the future, but now it is blissful and they need it like they need sunshine.

Her hands run through Arya's hair, and suddenly their bodies are pressed together. The kiss grows deeper and the elf has placed her hands on her waist and unexpectedly Nasuada feels her back against a pole. The entire time she pulls Arya closer like two magnets and they cannot let go.

Painfully, the wooden beam rubs against Nasuada's forearm and she cries out, although the sound is muffled by Arya's mouth.

When Arya pulls back, she wears a look of fear and surprise. Her face is flushed and her hair is tangled like a black web.

"I'm so sorry," says the elf, taking quick steps backwards.

"You- um- you didn't mean to hurt me, I just caught the w-wood."

"I'm sorry I kissed you," she replies guiltily.

Nasuada tilts her head, "But I kissed you."

They stand in silence, surveying the confusion on either side before they come forward again. And this time, much more slowly, they join together for a kiss. It is easier to manage on the second try, and certainly easier to understand.

When the kiss is finally broken, the brown and green eyes take in the sight before them in little pieces. It's so new and unusual, a perfect surprise.

_Don't let her go. _

"Please don't leave," gasps Nasuada.

Arya, still breathing heavily, laughs. She says, more to herself than the other woman, "Not even Galbatorix himself could pry me away."

Nasuada sits on the bed, still holding her hand, "Let's leave him out of this."

They laugh again, dizzy with such high spirits. Overcome with the exhaustion of the day, Nasuada yawns.

The elf looks sad for a moment, "You need to rest. You won't heal properly if-"

"Stay the night."

This abruptly stops Arya's words. She asks uncertainly, "Are you sure?"

"Get in this bed right now," Nasuada commands with a wicked grin.

She says nothing, but bites her lip and obeys, and feels the other girl shift against her when she finally sits. Nasuada twists her long hair in her fingers and Arya does her best not to shudder.

"I'm wish I didn't have to sleep," she murmurs.

"It will be a good sleep," Arya says before kissing her forehead. After the elf blows out the lantern, she takes off her boots and pulls a heavy blanket over them. "I promise."

In the dark, Nasuada tells her, "You are a very difficult woman to be around. I can't even count how many times I've wanted to kiss you, even if you would have turned me down. It was a trying ordeal, to say the least."

"I tried to ignore you, too," says Arya. "It seems that I failed." She holds the other girl closely, just brushing her lips against her ear.

"Completely failed," Nasuada says as she kisses the skin by her neck and collarbone. "Thank the gods."

They curl up, pushing thoughts of tomorrow away. They are happy to lie together silently, tracing patterns with their fingers until Nasuada falls asleep. She is under another elf-spell, although this one requires no magic words.

In her dream-state, Arya smiles the entire night.

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A/N2: How do you feel about an epilogue from someone else's POV? I already have an idea in mind about it.


	6. Saphira is curious

**Saphira is curious.**

She keeps few secrets from her Rider, but Saphira knows when there is information that he cannot handle. As she flies over the Varden camp, she watches the many-race-warriors that stand behind Nasuada, eyeing the young human from beneath their helmets.

She remembers the night of Nasuada's defeat of Orik, drinking their beer and laughing all the while. Her wings curl up, descending quickly back to her tent. Eragon is still gone from her, and she misses his constant humming at the back of her mind.

However, she must be careful to shield him from Nasuada's thoughts when he returns with Arya. She remembers that the girl could not think straight when Saphira mentally spoke with her that night. She remembers her thinking, _For Arya, for Arya, for Arya_. She saw the elf in her thoughts, smiling and not looking so tired for once. Her memories were leaking away like sand through small fingers and the dragon saw them in a room, standing close together with red-warm-skin like Eragon gets around Arya.

And this is what she hopes her little one will not uncover in her mind.

Although she does not know the inner workings of human feelings, she can understand that his heart will twist. He will be empty and rejected like the time his tender-magic-Arya-painting was shattered.

She lands before Nasuada, just in front of her tent, as if returning from a hunt. Saphira has seen Eragon's thoughts about Arya, wanting to kiss and touch. He dreams of her, and she can sometimes feel through him how it is to be human.

_Hello, Saphira,_ says Nasuada.

_Good evening,_ replies the dragon, folding up her winds.

And for just a moment, Saphira wishes she could be a human or elf. She wishes she could understand the longing for lips-pressed-together with another. She wants to know why Nasuada can only picture Arya when all her other thoughts are crooked.

She has seen the concern of the young-looking-old-spirit-elf when she watches Nasuada, and, although she wishes her looks were for Eragon, Saphira cannot help but think that the two women make a good pair. They could comfort and empathize with each other, and know that they are both broken and still strong. She thinks that Eragon would not understand this at all.

But if she were human, she would not have the strength to hide this secret from her little one, and that is something she cannot stand.

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A/N: I know I decided that an epilogue was in order, but I had three written and couldn't decide which one to use. So I've decided to extend this story from other POVs, and Saphira is the first. I have five characters in mind, but that is subject to change.

Sorry for stringing you along! I hope you enjoy these additional chapters and thanks to everyone who reviewed for me. :)


	7. Elva is annoyed

**Elva is annoyed.**

The worst part of her day is any time around Nasuada. Of course, the dreadful pain from broken soldiers and mourning wives is horrendous and impossible to ignore, but the _worst_ part is the mosquito-like buzzing that hovers around the edges of the dark-skinned girl's consciousness.

Elva picks at her teeth with a chicken bone, clenching her jaws just thinking about how annoying Nasuada can be. Even now, her curse has been lifted, no longer requiring her to help those in pain, but she can get no rest.

She feels Nasuada thinking about the black-haired elf and it makes her flesh crawl.

Elva throws the bone to the back of her room and grows, "Shut up."

But the nuisance continues, lonely and too afraid to act on her feelings. Farther away, Elva can feel another pain that matches Nasuada's in frequency.

It is not exactly the same, because it reminds her of a broken bone that has been improperly set. Nasuada's is more of a sword-wound, perhaps like a blade through the stomach. But Elva knows that the second ache belongs to the elf.

"Idiots," she mumbled. "Both of them."

She stands up, tired of this back-and-forth with the brooding elf and tormented human, to finally rid herself of the pests' thoughts.

Through the night, she hones in on the elf's pain and burst into her tent without a warning. Elva stares blankly at her, and the elf looks like she wants to be angry, but decides against it.

"Nasuada needs your help."

Her eyes widen slightly, a movement that is not lost on Elva. She feels the bone-like-wound crack a little bit.

"She's hurting herself trying to wrap her wounds, and all of her handmaids are gone. It would be improper for one of the men to assist her, so she needs you. Go to her," commands Elva.

And the elf replies not a word; dashing away so quickly that Elva is almost surprised.

She senses Nasuada's cut-pain and the elf's bone-pain reach a peak that they never have before, and this drives her crazy. It is unbearable how stupid they can be, damaging each other irreparably. Again, the girl gnashes her teeth.

And then finally their pain washes away, leaving Elva sighing in contentment. She wants to smile, but doesn't, and austerely walks back to her bed. The bane of her existence is finally gone, and she can guess a few simple reasons why.

"About damn time," she mumbles.

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A/N: Oh, Elva, your creepish ways never cease to amaze me. Review before she starts popping out of bushes behind you.


	8. Garzhvog is confused

**Garzhvog is confused. **

He was fairly certain that female humans and male humans were the only kind that mated, but recently he noticed that Lady Nightstalker and Lady Quickstrike had taken to each other like brood-mates. He buffed out a scratch from his shield, sitting outside of his own tent, for he was not on duty during the first watch of night.

Garzhvog could smell the elf's piney scent on Nasuada's skin throughout the course of the day, but he never mentioned it to anyone else. It never bothered him that they were in each other's company; in fact, he had a great deal of respect for the elf and human.

_Perhaps, _he thought, _Some humans choose a mate the same way Urgralgras do. _

In that case, the elf called Arya would make a fine choice. Very few had slaughtered so many on the battlefield, and she seemed never to tire when fighting. She was uninjured and still capable of war. Garzhvog nodded, bobbing his horns up and down.

_A fine choice for Lady Nightstalker. But what was the elf's reasoning?_

He ran his tongue over his sharp tusks, pondering very deeply.

_Nasuada is in a position of power, not unlike our Herndall. She rules the clans of the Varden with an iron-fist. But she is not a warrior…_

He recalled the way that Nasuada could control a war-council with only her words, much like the female leaders of his clans, and how Arya would watch her with darkened eyes so full of pride. It almost reminded him of his own mother and father.

And like a bolt of lightning, Garzhvog understood why their match seemed to suit them so well.

"Nasuada is the Dam, and Arya is the Ram," he growled. Baring his teeth in a smile, the Kull polished off his armor with a new fervor. He chuckled gruffly at his realization, thinking that humans and elves were very strange creatures indeed.

In the morning, he would be sure to mention this discovery to Lady Nightstalker.

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A/N: Garzhvog absolutely cracks me up. I love that guy. Sorry this chapter is so short, but I couldn't resist some insightful Kull thoughts on femslash.

I wasn't planning on doing an Eragon POV, but I'm hearing some requests for it and the idea is certainly growing on me. I could use some more angsty romance.


	9. Eragon is learning

A/N: Angst warning ahead! This chapter took me much longer to write, but I'm glad with the way it turned out. Special thanks to all my reviewers, you guys are like drug dealers to my crack (review) addiction.

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**Eragon is learning.**

She is making it very clear that she is not interested in him. Her lithe fingers brush away his hand when he reaches out to make a point, and her words are firm, as if he will not understand, when she says, "There's someone else."

And, although he wants to scream, _I'll kill him,_ he keeps his wits and slowly sighs. Eragon cannot be upset with her because he wants her to stay. He is growing up, little by little, and a man would never act so foolish. He cannot be furious because he is a Dragon Rider, and leader of armies, and savior of Alagaësia, and he has so many responsibilities.

But his heart is splitting as her long legs carry her away, so he lifts his blue eyes and calls out, "Does he treat you well?" He thinks he knows the answer, but he all he wants is her presence for a little bit longer.

Arya hangs her head and turns back to stare at him. The look on her face reminds him of long ago, when he tried to keep Saphira a secret from Garrow and Roran. It is troubled and amused, and perhaps a bit unwilling to speak aloud.

After a long pause, Arya tells him, "She treats me very well."

With a soft rustle of fabric, she takes leave of him to return to her own residence. He watches her hair blow behind her and has no words to call out this time, so he sits in the dirt with the sun beating down on his neck.

In the following weeks, the curiosity gnaws at him because he has no idea who has Arya's love. Saphira does not speculate with him, but he is beginning to think it must be one of Blödhgarm's spellcasters.

This suits her very well: two beautiful elves that are too perfect for anyone else. And for a while, Eragon feels the pain subside because dwelling on Arya is becoming too much of burden for him, and his own maturity is beginning to shine through.

Early one morning, before the sun is even risen, Eragon wakes from his tent to search for washing water. He shuffles his feet wearily to the wells and sees Nasuada's bright red tent in the distance.

Two figures stand with their foreheads pressed together and, even from so far away, he can identify the two women in their silent embrace. Arya reaches up to stroke Nasuada along the cheekbone, leaning in for a kiss, and Eragon drops his water basin.

It shatters, and in the half-dark they look toward the noise, but the young man is already sprinting back to his tent, back to Saphira, back to his loneliness. They looked so beautiful together that he is ashamed to want to tear them apart.

Eragon drops again to the dirt, pushing away Saphira's concerned questions. He curses his adulthood and wishes he could act like a child again. Images of screaming in their faces swirl before his eyes, but he knows that he would accomplish nothing.

He wants jump from a cliff or drink poison or plunge a knife in his chest. But he won't, he can't, because there are two women that love him very much, but are in love with each other. Eragon knows that they would cry for him, and he does not want tears to stain their lovely faces.

Little by little, Eragon is learning how to make his world a better place, even though it sometimes hurts him terribly. And now, when he thinks of Arya's tiny smile as she looked into Nasuada's eyes, his heart breaks in half again.

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	10. Orrin is blushing

**Orrin is blushing.**

It is entirely inappropriate for the king of a nation to blush so ferociously around his peers. Yet, he cannot help himself when he is in council with the other Varden leaders and he sees the two women locking glances from across the table.

It is a look of such intensity that Orrin feels intrusive when he catches sight of it, but he can never tear his face away. They do not smile, not ever that he has seen, and they do not openly address the other during the course of the meeting.

He clears his throat. _Maybe it's nothing,_ he thinks.

Arya lowers her green eyes, and raises them slowly back to the face of Nasuada. Her eyelashes catch the light, and Orrin wonders how the young woman can bear such a beauty before her.

_Maybe it's just me. _

Nasuada bites her lower lip, just hard enough to see the pressure along its pink surface. The heat Orrin now feels is palpable; he needs to get some air.

_Am I the only one who sees this?! They're making eyes at each other like… _

Arya shifts her weight, leaning against her right arm and Nasuada mimics her like a dance partner. They have not stopped staring and Orrin is beginning to think that they would pounce on the other if the table were not in their way. And he is sorely tempted to move the obstacle.

_Those curves, those lips, those hands. On each other… NO! No no no no no no. Not correct. _He begins fanning himself with a scrap of paper.

His movement seems to break their trance, and Nasuada turns to him, asking, "Are you feeling well, Orrin?"

"It's just so hot," he says, trailing off his sentence. "In the tent! It's very stuffy in this tent." His face turns ruby red.

The elf asks him lowly, "Shall I let some air in?" He nods and she rises, swaying her hips more than Orrin can handle, while Nasuada watches her walk to the tent flap, parting her lips as she brushes a few stands of hair behind her ear.

_Oh, gods. I must be a very sick man to think what I'm thinking._

He swallows hard and does his best not to look at them for the duration of the meeting. When they finish a half-hour later, Orrin stumbles out of the tent like a drunk.

_You're only seeing it because you want it to happen._

Following behind, the distracting females walk side-by-side to Nasuada's tent, reading a scroll between them. He can hear them discussing something about the shipment of lace to Teirm.

_They would never…_

Arya lightly touches Nasuada's lower back, guiding her into the carpeted area. Orrin's jaw drops.

"Lovers" is the word that pops into his head unbidden. _They can't be!_

But the teenage boy of his thoughts wants very, very desperately for it to be true.

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A/N: This started as a Blödhgarm chapter, but I couldn't bring myself to write his POV. I'm still planning on one, but Orrin needed to come first. Haha, perv.


	11. Angela is amused

**Angela is amused.**

"Word around these parts is you've tamed yourself an immortal," said Angela, not looking up from the bowl she was stirring. She tossed a mushroom into the mix and the goopy concoction turned a ghostly purple.

"I- pardon me?" asked Nasuada from across the tent. She had been looking from plant to plant trying to discern how many were poisonous, and Angela's statement took her aback completely.

"It's not a problem, you'll just have to find a way to become immortal yourself." She leaned forward, "This isn't as hard as you think, _trust me._ I'm older than I look."

Angela leaned back in her chair and stuck a finger into the bowl to taste the mess inside. She grimaced and spat on the floor before she continued, "I wouldn't bother trying to hide it anymore. After all, love is love, no matter what form it takes. Once I knew a man who was smitten with a cow. Loved her like the desert loves rain." Angela smiled, "She was a beautiful cow."

Mouth slightly open, Nasuada began, "I don't-"

The witch cut her off, "I've never seen Arya looking more peachy."

A blush spread to Nasuada's cheeks, "We're just-"

"Lying will get you nowhere, Elf-catcher," Angela grinned. She tossed what looked like salt into her bowl and shoved it underneath Nasuada's nose. "Try this."

Leaning as far away as possible from the grey goo, Nasuada asked, "Do you even hear yourself?"

Angela shook her head, "Just try it."

Cautiously sticking in her finger, she lifted the frightening blend to her mouth. Her eyes widened, "It tastes like chocolate." She stuck her finger back in for more, "It's good!"

"Of course it's good!" The herbalist bounded around her tent, picking leaves here and there to stir in the bowl. "It also contains about thirteen different poisons that negate each other."

Nasuada blanched. Her voice rose, "You poisoned me?"

"Tsk, tsk," said Angela. "You weren't listening. It's not poisonous anymore. In fact, I'm thinking of baking a cake using it as batter. I could call it 'Death by Chocolate.'"

Rubbing her forehead, Nasuada did her best not to think about her latest near-death experience. Solembum the were-cat padded into her view.

"So how long have you to been in cahoots with our darling elf?"

"Angela, please don't let us become the gossip of the camp. Neither one of us needs that pressure right now, nor will I let hearsay ruin Arya's reputation," said Nasuada heatedly.

"Pffft. There's nothing to worry about." The large were-cat pressed himself to her feet while he stared at the girl in the chair. She maneuvered around him to say, "I would bet money that people would care more about the fact that I'm screwing the Varden's most powerful spellcaster."

A lump formed in Nasuada's throat, "Eragon?"

"Hah," laughed Angela. "Oh, ho ho. Not at all. But guess again, it's terribly funny."

The Varden leader pictured the handsome blue-furred elf, Blödhgarm, who smelled so delectable to women.

"Blödhgarm?"

The witch paused to think about this suggestion. "I hadn't really considered that, but no, not him either."

Nasuada rolled her eyes, "Then it really isn't such a scandal. I can't think of a single other spell-"

"Try Trianna."

And with that, Angela swept out of her tent with Solembum on her heels and the poisonous cake batter in her hands.

In the silent room, Nasuada could only laugh and agree with the curly-haired witch: that was very juicy gossip. She could hardly wait to tell Arya.

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A/N: Lolz. I'm baiting you with a new ship. Tell me how you feel about it.


	12. Blödhgarm is experimenting

A/N: Number one- this chapter is pointless fluff. Number two- I think I've subconsciously decided that Blödhgarm is gay. Yum.

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**Blödhgarm is experimenting.**

There is nothing that pleases Blödhgarm more than the sight of two lovers. He has seen the way human men sweep their women into their arms, bending their forms together to kiss them fervently. He can hear the breath of the women catch in their throats, and the men's faces contort in pleasure. Blödhgarm is beginning to think that elves should learn to kiss that way.

Because he is curious, and not at all shy, he discusses this with the elves from Ellesméra, but he does not garner the reaction he was hoping to receive. They reply that humans are much too hasty in their relationships, and to invade another's personal space so intensely is an offensive act, not a loving one. So he sighs his ideas away for the night, pondering more deeply the "human-sweep-kiss" as he has named it. He noticed that Arya, who would sometimes dine with her old friends, seemed to take a special interest in his words, although she did not respond aloud.

He knows about Arya and Lady Nasuada. It fact, he is a huge admirer of theirs. Blödhgarm finds it very rare for any kind of love to last between the two races, and for this reason he simply adores their union. It doesn't hurt that both woman are gorgeous and unique, in his humble opinion, and he is fairly certain that Nasuada could keep Arya on her toes in more way than one. He smiles at this idea.

The next day his dear Princess Arya, wearing her dark leather and breeches, comes from behind him to ask, "I heard about your question, but I'm not sure I understand what you were asking the elves to do. Are you trying to find a human to kiss, Blödhgarm? I'm certain that most of the females in the camp, married or unmarried, would be willing to help your pursuit of knowledge." A wry smile twists her lips.

Blödhgarm laughs, "That is kind of you to say, Arya Svit-kona, but I suppose my question was not one of kissing a human, but how much an elf could enjoy that kind of contact. It seems to please the soldiers and their women to no end, and I was hoping to find an elf who had… begun a relationship with one of the humans here. Perhaps he or she could answer my question." His yellow eyes stare into hers.

She is aware that he knows her secret, and a slight burden lifts from her shoulders. "I will report back to you with my findings, Blödhgarm," she practically sings.

Not willing to miss the actual experiment, he trails her to the camp's center, where she grabs the hand of Lady Nightstalker and leads her to a thick copse of trees. He hears her say, "I hope you don't mind this."

She cradles Nasuada's head with one hand, and circles her other arm around her waist. For a moment, their bodies are pressed together before she dips the human, slightly bending her back, and locks their lips against each other.

Nasuada's body absolutely melts into the elf.

The human's hands rise up, running to her neck and shoulders so she can more aptly touch her. This action does not surprise Blödhgarm, but Arya's face is another story entirely.

Her eyes are closed in the most exquisite shape he has ever seen on one of his race. It reminds him of porcelain, so intricate and delicate, in the hands of a mystical elf-child. The reason behind his analogy is lost on him, but he cannot escape the image her fragile expression has left in his mind.

They stand straight again, breathing harder, and Nasuada says, "I have no idea what brought that on, but let it suffice to say that I don't mind. I don't mind at all." She laughs and Arya joins her. "Shall we try that again?"

Taking his leave of the lovers, Blödhgarm is now certain of his hypothesis.

He will teach the elves to kiss this way.

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A/N2: The next chapter will be the last. If you've enjoyed the story, please review. Thanks for everyone who has already! I owe ya one.


	13. Islanzadi is furious

**Islanzadi is devastated.**

"There is nothing for me to say that you don't already know." Her voice treacherously lowered, "Your race has always been infatuated with mine, begging for immortality and grace by association; but do you really think that my daughter will stay by your side forever? She will tire of you, as she tires of everyone, and will move to someone more exciting. And one day many years from now, she will find someone perfectly suited for her and she will be married. On that day I doubt she will remember your name, if you are even among the living."

Islanzadi paused to measure Nasuada's reaction. The woman sat impassive, waiting for her turn to speak. The elf continued sharply, "You are foolish to think that an elf princess would truly consider you for a partner, though I must say that my daughter was wrong to string you along for so much time. Leave her now, Lady Nasuada, before she decides to abandon this little tryst of which you've grown so fond. It will end painfully unless you take the initiative." Nasuada remained still.

The elf hissed, "Have you nothing to say?" Her long fingers gripped her chair arm so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her pearly teeth were barred in a grimace.

"I respectfully disagree."

In a very unladylike display of emotion, Queen Islanzadi shouted, "How?" Her voice lost its musical quality as she yelled, "How can you refute the evidence before you? Explain yourself! What kind of spell has she placed you under? Prove your certainty to me!"

"May I show you?" asked Nasuada calmly. "It would be easier for you to look using magic than for me to explain."

Sneering, Islanzadi replied, "I have seen the minds of men, and yours is no interest to me. Humans lack the depth of other races."

"Then it will not bother you to take a cursory glance into my thoughts, if only to prove your theory correct."

So she reached out with a scowl and put her fingertips to Nasuada's brow. Islanzandi's mind shot forward like an arrow, not bothering to be gentle with her subject, but she felt no resistance from the young woman. In fact, the wealth of memories floated completely unprotected before the queen's eyes, and she found herself overwhelmed.

_Below Farthen Dûr a thin warrior battles next to Saphira Bjartskular, completely unaware that Nasuada focuses her aim on her nearby enemies. She is protected by the archer on the walls. _

A new image replaces the battle: _A sting is felt when her name is spoken with anything but reverence. Nasuada mentally notes that the soldier will have latrine duty until he learns respect for the elf. _

_In a red tent, they are kissing and Nasuada is warm and happy. _Islanzandi blushes at the human's honesty._ They are entwined like a braid of dark and light, and this she finds lovely. Her wounded arms burn, but she ignores it and Arya whispers her to sleep. _

Her daughter was smiling.

_Only Arya understands what it's like among these warriors. She alone can keep the peace along with her authority, so Nasuada idolizes her. She is flawed perfection of the most beautiful kind._

Islanzadi feels the hot sun: _Eragon takes her away, leaving jealousy and rage and fear and weakness. He was alone in the wide world, but now they are alone together. Come back. Come back without him, Arya. _

_They are playfully joking with each other one night, an elf and a human discovering that their senses of humor are surprisingly complementary; Arya can't say the punch line without giggling at Nasuada's expectant face. _

Her daughter was laughing.

_She holds her firmly now because her waking dreams have become too real, and Durza is burned into the back of her skull. Nasuada stays awake and kisses her nightmares away. _They were in the red tent again. _She whispers, "Breathe. Breathe, and remember that you are far from that hell." And Arya does. _

_They cannot tell where one body ends and another begins. They move together like clockwork, coupled with sighs and moans and needy kisses, and it is a wonder that they fit so well. It is a miracle. _She blushes even harder.

_Nothing special happens today, except that Arya is recapping a scouting mission to the table of war advisors in her lyrical voice; she looks sweetly to Nasuada when she sits down. Her eyes say, "You're mine," so Nasuada replies in their newly created method, "Always." _

Islanzadi sees their most recent memory together: _"If you asked me to challenge her to a magician's duel, you know I would," jokes Nasuada. Arya furrows her brow, trying to plaster a smile on her face as they stand outside of the queen's chambers. Nasuada sees through this mask easily. "I will not forsake you, Arya," she says, and her thumb gently touches the side of her mouth, as if wiping away her frowns. They kiss softly, and tears slide away from Arya's green eyes. "She'll try to take you away from me," sobs the elf. Nasuada shakes her head, "Can you take light from the stars? Not by any magic I have seen." She pulls away after another kiss, unlacing their fingers, and opens the door. _

Ripping from her mind, Islanzadi breathed laboriously, unsure of the sadness that resonated from her body. She had never felt such emotion from any living creature, elf or human, and a small cry slipped from her lips.

xXx

A whimper floated through the corridor, and Arya wasted no more time waiting outside her mother's room. She burst through the door and her heart stopped at the sight before her.

Her mother, the ruler of the immortals, knelt with Nasauda's hands pressed to her forehead, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. The human's face was tender as the elf-queen kissed her fingers, whispering, "Forgive me, please, forgive me. I did not understand."

"It is sometimes hard for me to understand as well, great queen," murmured Nasuada. She turned her deep brown eyes to Arya, and smiled like a soldier saved from death on the battlefield. "I had only to show her," she practically laughs.

Rising from her position, Islanzadi embraced her daughter without reservations. She said, "I owe you apologies, too, Arya. My thoughts were grossly formed and my words were harsh enough for you to be rightfully angry. If you can forgive me, I will be glad to speak to you about this situation." She wiped her eyes. "But for now Nasuada," she paused to express her name with a new inflection, "has given me a great deal to think about."

The queen bowed away from them and carried herself to a secluded area. For many hours Islanzadi sat in silence, recalling the memories that brought Arya so much joy. The adoration between them was so vast, so infinite, that she could hardly wrap her mind around it. And late at night, when her psyche needed rest, she smiled wearily. Their commitment was so similar to her own beloved marriage that she was surprised to have missed the connection in the first place.

It was love, pure and simple.

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A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed for me! I didn't expect such support from _Inheritance _fans, especially for a crack!ship story. I plan to write more using Mr. Paolini's characters, and I hope you enjoy my future stories, too.

Much love, guys!


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